


The Coolest Cake

by FindingSchmomo



Series: Seijoh Sweets: Aoba Johsai Artisinal Bakery [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Wedding Planning, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-10-11 10:07:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10462401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FindingSchmomo/pseuds/FindingSchmomo
Summary: “How the fuck are we supposed to make a cake good enough for Miyagi’s Top Bakers of the Spring Season?"Or, what happens when Hanamaki and Matsukawa have to design a cake for Iwaizumi and Oikawa's wedding.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of my bakery series and is a prequel to The Sweetest Smile and The Finest Feline. However, it can be read on its own. Enjoy!

It happens without warning, but Matsukawa and Hanamaki share a glance as if to say, _we should have known_.

It was Iwaizumi’s idea. To close the bakery for a five day weekend and have a summer trip down to Enoshima. A celebration of the growing business, of their growing friendship, of their recent spot in the paper. Fun in the sun, an excuse off work, a fun hangout with friends. Who could say no to this?

“Oh my God he’s _crying_.” Hanamaki whispers, inching closer to Matsukawa’s side as the scene unfolds in front of them.

So, last Thursday, they closed up shop and flipped a sign on _Seijoh Sweets_ , announcing to the public they would be back Tuesday morning to sweeten their lives once more. And all four had piled into a bullet-train down to the southern spot, excited by the impromptu vacation.

 _We should have known_.

“Tooru,” Iwaizumi says, voice soft and rough, eyes glistening as he looks up at the taller man, so much taller now that he’s on his knees.

Matsukawa’s eyes are open wider than Hanamaki’s ever seen them, and he’s known the man a good five years now.

Oikawa has his hands on his face, but the muffled, “Yes?” still passes through the gaps in his trembling fingers.

Hanamaki’s toes squeeze into the sand he’s standing in, and part of him wonders how much Iwaizumi’s bare knee must be hurting in all that grit. If it does hurt, he doesn’t seem to notice.

“I have spent my entire life, except for my first month, with you by my side, and -“

“And the time you left me for three weeks and didn’t tell me,” Oikawa interrupts, interjects, because the man can’t keep silent for even the smallest amount of time.

“Oh my God.” Hanamaki breathes out again, and Matsukawa looks at him with a stifled laugh on his lips.

“I went to camp! I was seven!” Iwaizumi snaps instinctively, an age old argument resurfacing as his voice raises. Oikawa giggles in response, hands falling from his face as he relaxes, shoulders less tense. He bites his lip now, eyes wet and bright and _shining_. The light of the setting sun catches him and he is _glowing_. And Iwaizumi is the only thing he sees, and Oikawa is the only thing Iwaizumi sees, and it seems as if they’ve lost each other in the space between their meeting eyes.

Hanamaki has half a mind to cough, for them to get on with it, but he’s too caught up in it too. Feels his fingers dig into his palms in anticipation as his hands rise up to his chest. His arm brushes along Matsukawa’s as he does so, and he feels a shiver. He’s not sure if it’s his friends’ or his own.

After an eternity, Iwaizumi speaks again, voice soft, “Tooru,” he starts, hand reaching up to take Oikawa’s own, “I have spent _almost_ my entire life with you, and I never want to stop. I love you, have loved you since my dog peed on you when you finally moved in next door to me.”

Oikawa lets out a laugh, but it’s choked, and he’s reddening a little, and his grip on Iwaizumi’s hand is as tight as can be.

Iwaizumi reaches into his pocket with his free hand, revealing a slim but dazzling ring, adorned with white diamonds and one small light blue one in the center. Oikawa makes another sound, in the back of his throat, eyes leaking down his face.

“Tooru, will you marry me?” Iwaizumi asks, quiet, smooth, but with a hint of uncertainty. And Hanamaki wonders how he could have any doubts at all about his partner’s response.

Oikawa is nodding before the question is completely out of Iwaizumi’s mouth, hand pulling the man on the ground up into a fierce hug. His long fingers cup Iwaizumi’s face and pull him into a crushing kiss, hands slipping to circle around his neck. Iwaizumi’s shoulders are trembling, shaking, and when he pulls away he’s laughing.

“Hold on, dumbass,” Iwaizumi laughs, “I haven’t put the ring on!”

Oikawa keeps kissing his cheeks instead, one after another as he peppers the shorter man’s face. Iwaizumi keeps laughing, light and high, like he’s entered another plane of absolute giddyness, “Do-Don’t! Stop! You’re, you’re gonna make me drop it!” He pleads.

Oikawa gives him a final kiss on the lips before taking a step back and offering his hand in an almost dramatic fashion. Iwaizumi takes it, sliding the ring up his fourth finger before squeezing the hand in his own. Oikawa lifts his face again, to kiss him, deeper and more sensual, and Iwaizumi practically melts into him.

There’s some cheers from other beach goers, and Iwaizumi seems to flame up from the attention. It makes Hanamaki laugh, which is a good way to release his emotions out from the whole scene.

“Congrats!” he shouts, “And thanks boss, for getting us separate hotel rooms!” He calls with a snicker. Iwaizumi shoots him the middle finger. Hanamaki can’t stop grinning.

Matsukawa nudges him, showing his snapchat open on on his phone. It’s replaying a ten second clip of Iwaizumi’s proposal on loop. Superimposed is the caption, _Yo do you think they’re dating???_ and Hanamaki loses it, laugh bursting from his chest as he clutches Matsukawa’s bicep to keep him standing.

“What are you laughing at!” Oikawa calls, hands wrapped around Iwaizumi still.

“Send it, send it before they stop you!” Hanamaki manages to say between giggles.

Oikawa’s eyes squint, “What are you sending?”

“Congratulations!” Matsukawa responds instead, holding his arms out and moving closer to hug the pair. “You’re going to get married! You’ve grown up so fast!”

Hanamaki joins the hug as well, creating a perfect Oikawa-Iwaizumi sandwich, “Remember, use protection, we don’t want any happy accidents before the wedding.”

At this point, the happy couple start squirming in the shared grip, unamused. Matsukawa and Hanamaki respond by tightening down their prison, “Unless, is someone already pregnant?”

“Shotgun wedding.” Matsukawa lets out with a gasp.

“Let us go!” Oikawa whines, “We’re both guys!”

“The thought of Oikawa pregnant is literally nauseating.” Iwaizumi adds with a grimace.

“Hey!” Oikawa snaps, “I can pull off any look and you know it.”

The fact that Iwaizumi doesn’t respond, grosses Hanamaki off enough to loosen his grip. He takes a step back and makes a gagging noise and motion toward Matsukawa. In the interim, the couple are able to release themselves.

“Congratulations,” Matsukawa repeats, and it’s a touch more serious, with his smile soft and his eyes shining and Hanamaki can’t help the matching smile on his own face at the sight.

“Thanks,” Iwaizumi says, and now he’s smiling too, wide and uncontrollable. And if Iwaizumi’s mouth is a smile, Oikawa’s is a dazzling full face grin.

“Take our picture! I need to post this on my insta. My sister is going to freak out.” Oikawa suddenly orders, fumbling with his phone.

Matsukawa takes the phone, pulling out the camera app as Oikawa and Iwaizumi pose, “Wait, Iwa-chan, get on your tiptoes so you don’t look so short. Ow! Don’t hit me! That’s _spousal_ abuse now you understand? Stop! Iwa-chan you’re blocking the ring! Come on!” He turns toward Matsukawa with a stern look, “Make sure we look handsome. This picture has to be perfect.”

“Yeah, already got it.” Matsukawa responds, flipping the phone back to reveal a selfie of him and Hanamaki, making kissey faces at each other with the caption: _We’re engaged! #LoveIsBeautiful #RelationshipGoals._

 _“_ What the hell Matsu-chan! Did you post this? I’m deleting it!” Oikawa grouches, tapping away at his phone quickly.

“He was just taking the most handsome picture possible like you asked.” Hanamaki supplies, giving Matsukawa a subtle and supportive fist bump on the side. Oikawa rolls his eyes, shoving his phone into Hanamaki’s hands.

Oikawa fusses over Iwaizumi’s posture another moment, but Iwaizumi lets him, and it’s kinda disgusting how loving his gaze is, how placid he is. The light is leaving fast, but finally Oikawa smiles at the camera and Iwaizumi absolutely grins into it when Oikawa doesn’t look at him.

“It’s perfect!” Oikawa shouts, wrapping the man in a hug once more, “Iwa-chan! You’re smiling! Look at that! When you smile you can’t see all your forehead wrinkles.”

“Yeah yeah, just hurry up and post it.” Iwaizumi sighs, “Let’s go grab dinner.”

* * *

 

They’re on the bullet train back to Miyagi. Iwaizumi has fallen asleep on Oikawa’ shoulder. Snapchats have been taken of his open mouth and drooling face. But in the newfound quiet, Oikawa turns to his companions, a serious expression clouding over his face, “Hey, we...We want you to be our best men.”

“Holy shit.” Matsukawa breathes out on reflex.

“And,” Oikawa continues, “we would love it if you could make us a cake.”

“Holy shit.” Hanamaki hisses in response.

“Will you?” Oikawa asks, and Hanamaki and Matsukawa turn to each other mirroring helpless eyes because _there’s no way we can say no to this._

“Yeah.” Hanamaki swallows.

“Of course.” Matsukawa agrees with wider eyes than normal.

Oikawa beams at them, and his phone rings, “Yes? Ne-san! How many times do we need to talk this weekend? I can come visit home next week. Yes, ok, I _know-_ ”

The conversation dies in Hanamaki’s and Matsukawa’s ears because they’re too busy looking at each other, “How the fuck are we supposed to make a cake good enough for Miyagi’s Top Bakers of the Spring Season?” Hanamaki whispers.

“We’ve been setup to fail.” Matsukawa replies solemnly.

“I can’t believe we’re getting fired.” Hanamaki sighs, fingers ruffling through his short hair.

Matsukawa lets his hand pat down the stuck up hairs, in an almost delicate fashion. Hanamaki blinks, looking over at him. Matsukawa removes his hand awkwardly, but says nothing about it. Instead he speaks up, “I guess we have to give it our all.”

Hanamaki sinks into his seat, “Sounds like effort,” he bemoans.

Matsukawa snorts, “Unfortunately,”he agrees with a smile.

Hanamaki feels his stomach flip, probably from the train. He lets his hand wander up to touch his own hair again, soft and curious.

He swallows.

* * *

Matsukawa dumps his overnight bag in the entryway of Hanamaki’s apartment. He crouches down, unlacing his shoes and leaving them beside Hanamaki’s smaller pair. He steps out into the hall, catching Hanamaki’s wave from his place in the living room.

“Alright. It’s game time.”

It’s been a month since the proposal. A month of watching the sickening sweet spectacle of two idiots deeper in love than before (and they honestly had thought that wasn’t possible). A month of catching them kissing in the office, a month of Iwaizumi saying _nice_ things about Oikawa, a month of Oikawa gushing uncontrollably.

A month of pure nightmarish anxiety as Hanamaki and Matsukawa try to think how the hell they’re gonna make the perfect cake for their best friends.

A month until some calming words, _We want a spring wedding. Maybe sometime in April or May._

And Hanamaki and Matsukawa look at each other with the shared glance, _Oh thank God, we have time._

“I stole this catalogue from the office.” Hanamaki mentions, motioning to the thick volume resting on his low table. He’s sitting crosslegged on a cushion, and Matsukawa decides to join him by his side, pressing tight against him to get us much cushion as possile.

Hanamaki is having none of it, “Get you’re own cushion.”

“I’d crush you if I sat on you,” Matsukawa replies easily, “Thanks for the invitation though.”

Hanamaki laughs, “That sounds more like a threat,” He reaches behind him to grope for a throw pillow, hitting Matsukawa lightly on the arm as he hands it over.

“Devastating hit,” Matsukawa comments, deadpanned.

“That was only 40% strength. Be warned,” Hanamaki says.

Matsukawa lets out a chuckle as he slips the cushion beneath him, “K, let’s crack this bad boy open.”

They spend hours flipping through the book, from one tiered cakes to seven tiered cakes, from all white to monochrome to rainbow, spitting out dumb idea after dumb idea.

Eventually, after eating about twenty leftover cookies from work they find themselves sprawled along the floor, book completely abandoned.

“What if: Beach themed. Cover it in sea shells. Since they proposed on the beach.” Matsukawa says, spreading his arms out wide as he talks.

“Too predictable. Oikawa has to have something unique or he’ll die.”

“What if we just print out a picture of Oikawa’s face on fondant and call it a day?”

“I’m sure Iwaizumi would love to dig a knife into that.”

Matsukawa lets out a sharp laugh, “Oikawa would _kill_ us.”

“That’s how most of these scenarios seem to end.” Hanamaki sighs, “Ok, picture this: Giant Rainbow Cake.”

“No.”

“And just the words ‘Welcome to our Gay Wedding’ plastered on every tier.”

Matsukawa snickers again, trying to quiet himself down with his hand. Hanamaki turns his body so he can watch him, finding the way the other man trembles in the moonlight fascinating. He’s too tired to analyze why he thinks this.

“I don’t think either of them would appreciate that.” Matsukawa comments.

“Ok, so now they _both_ hate the idea. Isn’t that progress?” Hanamaki offers.

Matsukawa can’t help but grin, “Yeah, I guess you can say that.” He turns his body to the side as well so he faces him, “Lets just put a dick on it.”

Hanamaki blinks before he crumples into shocked laughter, “Fuck, of course!”

“They’ll never expect it!”

“It’s definitely unique enough!”

“It would blow up on instagram!”

“That’s a check in every category, isn’t it?” Hanamaki sighs, wiping a stray tear from his eyes, “Who’s dick though?”

“Well, I guess it has to be both of theirs. Right?” Matsukawa shrugs, and then his eyes get a little wider, and his hands start moving as he talks once more, “We could even have one wear the ring. Like, a cock ring, but it’s their wedding ring. That’d be adorable.”

“Interesting word choice,” Hanamaki grins, but his eyes sparkle as he watches Matsukawa talk, and he can’t help breathing out, “I have never seen you more passionate.”

Matsukawa turns to him with a series face, “Penis fills me with passion.”

Hanamaki absolutely loses it, curling up on the floor to a guffaw of laughter and Matsukawa can’t help but join him in it. Because it’s absurd. This whole conversation is absurd.

“Now I’m imagining their dicks wearing a suit and wedding dress.” Hanamaki cries. He’s somehow found himself, using Matsukawa’s stomach as a pillow as he clutches his own. His abs are _aching_.

“Fuck, that’s perfect.” Matsukawa agrees, “Oh man, I hope Oikawa wears a dress to the wedding.”

“Are you kidding me? I hope _Iwaizumi_ wears a dress.”

Matsukawa’s hand wipes at his face, “Shit you’re right, that’s like, ten times better.”

“I think they should promote us to general wedding planner. We’ve got the talent for it.”

“Definitely. I mean, we’re crushing it.”

They fall into silence as they catch their breath from the laughing fit, staring up at the dark ceiling of Hanamaki’s home. Hanamaki feels Matsukawa fall and rise as he breathes, and the rhythm is oddly soothing. He feels his eyes start to droop close, as if he’s being rocked to sleep.

Matsukawa seems to sense this and sits up, watching as Hanamaki’s head is forced to roll onto his lap. Hanamaki glares at him through sleepy eyes.

“We should sleep.” Matsukawa says, breaking the silence.

“Yeah, probably.” Hanamaki sighs, sitting up.

Matsukawa gives him a lazy smile, and Hanamaki looks away. He feels too loose at the moment, too free, and there’s a redness creeping up his neck he’d rather not have his friend see. Matsukawa gets up to fall back down on the couch.

Hanamaki takes the hint, standing up and throwing his blanket onto his guest. Matsukawa lets out a grunt, “You’re so hospitable.”

Hanamaki rolls his eyes, and then takes a cushion from the floor, delicately running his fingers through Matsukawa’s long hair. It started as a joke, but he hadn’t expected how soft the locks would be under his fingers. How delicious the feeling. He feels his heart quicken.

Matsukawa is staring at him.

Hanamaki refocuses on what he had planned to do, lifting Matsukawa’s head to slip the cushion underneath, “Is that more to your liking?”

Matsukawa hesitates, for a second, and it’s so un-Matsukawa like that Hanamaki can’t help but notice. But then Matsukawa looks away, toward his own feet and replies, “What, no good night kiss? Worst hotel service ever.”

“I don’t know what kind of shady hotels you’ve been sleeping at,” Hnamaki snorts, “But that definitely costs extra.”

Matsukawa laughs, and Hanamaki turns to step into his bedroom in the other room, calling out a friendly good night.

When he slips into bed, eyes staring up at the ceiling he starts thinking about the dick cake again. How would they even make Oikawa and Iwaizumi’s dicks? They’d need some sort of reference. They’d have to get their dick pics somehow. How would that conversation go?

Maybe the could just use their own dicks on the wedding cake.

Hanamaki decides this train of thought needs to be derailed, right now, before he starts trying to figure out what Matsukawa’s dick would even look like (probably big right? the guy’s tall as fuck) and yeah. It’s bed time.

He finds it hard to fall asleep.

He thinks about good night kisses.

* * *

 

Matsukawa yawns into his hand as he sits around the table in the back office of the bakery. It’s early in the morning, and normally he would be spending the time making bread with Iwaizumi, but instead he’s been called into an impromptu meeting.

He glances over at Hanamaki, unraveling his long pink scarf from his neck. His nose is red. It’s cute.

Matsukawa looks back over at Oikawa, standing over the table, “Iwa-chan and I have been talking.”

“Always a bad sign.” Hanamaki say.

Iwaizumi sends him a _look_ , its the _this is serious, take it seriously_ look he reserves for business talks. Hanamaki quiets down. Matsukawa wants to pat his shoulder to acknowledge his good joke. Validate it. But he remains still.

Oikawa continues, “We’ve decided we’re going to hire two new employees.”

Matsukawa and Hanamaki blink, glancing at each other as if to say _shit are we fired?_

 _“_ No one’s getting fired.” Oikawa supplies, knowingly, because the guy can read any expression off of anyone. “We just need more help.”

“Ever since that article about us got published a few months ago, our orders have been blowing up, and this spring is only going to get crazier, especially with everything else going on,” Iwaizumi explains further, “It just makes sense to prepare now.”

“Plus, with the extra hands we can focus on other things too. Like growing our internet presence like you’re always saying Makki-chan.”

Hanamaki nods, mind already working through all sorts web strategies to grow the busines.

“We’ve already written up a job posting, we just want you both to look it over before we send it out.”

“The Great King, the Top Baker in all of Miyagi, wants our humble opinion?” Hanamaki gasps.

“We’re honored.” Matsukawa agrees, bowing his head deeply.

“On second thought, both of you _are_ fired.” Oikawa decides, before he slides the job position papers down for them to read.

In the next few weeks, Seijoh Sweets is flooded with applications, and most of Oikawa’s days are spent interviewing candidates. Hanamaki usually tags along with him. Iwaizumi is strictly forbidden on the grounds of him being way too nice.

“Thought I’d never hear those words from you.” Iwaizumi points out.

“You’re only nice to other people. Never me. It’s very cruel Iwa-chan.”

“I’m the co-owner of the bakery, I have a right to be in these interviews.”

“Iwa-chan it took you four days to notice when I completely re-arranged the living room last month. You take everyone at face value. You’re useless in there.”

“You’re too judgmental. You hate everyone on sight. That’s unfair.”

“I do not!”

Oikawa _is_ too judgmental. He finds something to hate in every single candidate that steps into his office. Even Hanamaki finds it abnormally harsh. He’s glad he’s already in Oikawa’s circle of trust because it’s a brutal entry process to go through.

They’re currently interviewing another possible candidate, third one of the day. He’s plain looking, with boyish brown hair. He’s stone faced and still. All the other candidates have been fidgety and nervous, but this young man keeps staring straight ahead.

It’s the only thing that makes him stick out. He’s very boring otherwise. Hanamaki has already forgotten his name.

“Why do you want to join Seijoh Sweets?” Oikawa asks.

“I want to learn and improve as much as I can. I remember when this store was a hardware shop. I have seen this place grow into the establishment it is today under your care and its truly inspiring.”

 _It’s a boring answer_ , Hanamaki thinks.

“Your portfolio is quite beautiful. What’s your favorite thing to make?” Oikawa continues.

“Oh, uh,” And the boy’s plastic face seems to crack, and he looks down to the side with an embarrassed smile, “I really like making sugar cookies.”

 _How...unimpressive_ , Hanamaki thinks.

“And why is that?” Oikawa asks, and he’s leaning in, eyes sharp and attentive.

“They’re so simple, but they’re a really fun blank canvas. I can spend hours decorating each one differently with different intricate designs. Sometimes I just get lost in them.” The boy replies, and it’s almost shy, but soon he straightens up and his face becomes neutral once more.

Oikawa stands up with a smile, extending his hand out to the candidate, “Yahaba Shigeru, I would love to offer you a position here at Seijoh Sweets.”

Hanamaki and Yahaba both gape at him.

Yahaba recovers quicker, shaking the hand firmly, “Thank you very much, Oikawa-san. I promise I won’t let you down!”

After the boy leaves through the office doors, Hanamaki can’t help but ask, “ _Why_?”

“He’s a hard worker, Makki-chan, and he has passion. I see potential in him.” Oikawa replies easily, flipping through the resumes to dig out the next candidate’s.

“You could say that about any of the others.” Hanamaki counters.

“Could you _really_? It shined through his eyes, Makki-chan. He’s going to do great things. I know it.”

Iwaizumi slides them each a cup of tea from the pot he’s made, and he offers Hanamaki the answer he’s searching for, “It’s because he makes sugar cookies and Shittykawa has to be the best at everything.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Matsukawa asks, sitting down beside Hanamaki.

“Iwa-chan’s favorite thing in the world is sugar cookies because he’s boring and has no sweet tooth.” Oikawa explains, “And he fell in love with me after I baked him the greatest batch of sugar cookies in middle school.”

“They were burnt. But he drew bugs on them with icing so I couldn’t really resist.” Iwaizumi lets out a gruff sigh.

“So you hired him to challenge him to a bake off?” Hanamaki blinks.

“ _And_ because he has great potential.”

Hanamaki rolls his eyes at Matsukawa, who smiles behind his cup of tea.

* * *

By late December, Watari Shinji has been hired and the new team is complete. Matsukawa ends up taking over the training process, and Hanamaki finds himself working on setting up a professional website. It means they’re both fairly busy, and kept in separate parts of the bakery the entire day.

It’s weird, not having Matsukawa around him constantly to make sarcastic comments to. It’s weird finding a funny meme during some downtime and not being able to flash it at him. It’s weird not hearing his laugh echo in his ears all day.

“Hey,” Oikawa calls, as he comes into the office, “I need you to do me a favor.”

“Fifty dollars.” Hanamaki says automatically, and he half expects an added jab from his partner in crime. But Matsukawa still isn’t there. Hasn’t been there for a while now.

“Take off work next Friday with Matsun.” Oikawa says.

“...Wait, you want me to just take a vacation?” Hanamaki repeats slowly, “Yeah, I’ll do you the solid.”

“No, not a vacation.” Oikawa sighs, “Don’t tell Iwa-chan, but I’m planning to propose to him then, and I need your guys’ help setting up the apartment to surprise him.”

Hanamaki blinks, “Oikawa.” He says seriously, taking the man’s hand delicately in his own. Oikawa squints at him distrustfully, “I hate to break this to you but,” Hanamaki continues with a heavy sigh. He lifts the man’s hand up, revealing his engagement ring, “You’ve already been proposed to.”

Oikawa swats his hand back, “I _know_. But I haven’t proposed to Iwa-chan yet.”

“Isn’t this a bit overkill?”

“He won’t expect it. And I want to see him cry.”

“I’m really feeling the love.”

“Iwa-chan can’t resist my romantic charm. I have so many great ideas. I just need help decorating the place while we’re at work. Will you do it?”

Hanamaki thinks a moment. An excuse to take off work and spend the entire day with Matsukawa, dicking around in Oikawa and Iwaizumi’s apartment. Sounds like a blast.

“Yeah, fine, I’m in.”

Oikawa clasps his hands around Hanamaki’s own, a grin dancing across his face, “Have I ever told you you’re one of my top four employees?” Hanamaki snorts, but Oikawa just grins wider, “I’ll leave everything in a box under my side of the bed. I’ll hand you a spare key the night before. Don’t tell Iwa-chan _anything_.”

“Aye, aye boss.” Hanamaki nods, “Now can I be released? I need to let Matsun in on the mission.”

Oikawa releases him, giving a little salute, “God speed.”

Hanamaki finds Matsukawa at the front of the bakery, fiddling with the cash register. A sheepish looking Watari stands by the counter, twisting his little cap in his hands.

“Matsun. Got a minute?” Hanamaki calls, resting a hand on the counter across from him.

Matsun frowns, a rare sight, and doesn’t look up, “One sec.” He mumbles.

“I’m sorry!” Watari babbles, “I don’t know what happened-“

Matsukawa waves him off, leaning down to peer closer into the cash register.

“What’s going on?” Hanamaki asks, stretching across the counter to take a look. His legs stretch out behind him for balance. He looks a little silly, but part of him hopes Matsukawa will look at his ridiculous pose and slip on a smile.

Matsukawa doesn’t turn his head, pulling on the bottom drawer of the cash register, which appears to be stuck.

“The cash register won’t open,” Yahaba supplies from his station by the window. Hanamaki looks back over at him. He’s got his window rag in hand. Hanamaki hadn’t even noticed him.

“Have you tried hitting enter.” Hanamaki offers.

“A thousand times.” Matsukawa huffs, squinting his eyes further.

Hanamaki hops onto the counter, swiveling his legs around to get to Matsukawa’s side. He jumps back down and nudges him away with his hip. He tinkers with the machine, poking at it in seven places at once in a flurry of fingers and jabs. Finally, he slams his fist at the head of it, watching it vomit the bottom drawer up immediately.

“How!?” Matsukawa cries, hands going up to muss with his own hair. His cap falls off in the process but he doesn’t seem to notice.

“I’ve got magic fingers.” Hanamaki grins, fingers wiggling in the air.

“Revered throughout all the lands.” Matsukawa agrees, eyes shining. Hanamaki feels his ears start to heat up and looks away.

“Thank you so much Hanamaki-san.” Watari quickly murmurs, bowing his head deeply.

Matsukawa pats the young man’s head, “That’s Hanamaki- _sama_ to us mere mortals.”

Hanamaki gives a sharp grin, and he hopes the redness climbing up his neck doesn’t show through his shirt collar.

“Incoming.” Yahaba interrupts, unceremoniously, making the trio look over.

A man bursts in through the doors, with short black hair and a panicked look in his eyes. He wears a black button down and an orange barista apron, emblazoned with a crow insignia. Hanamaki and Matsukawa wave.

“Sorry to burst in,” he apologizes, a little winded, “Do you have a mop we could borrow?”

Hanamaki and Matsukawa share a glance as if to say _I wonder what business will replace them across the street next?_

Matsukawa gives a half smile before looking over at their fresh hire, “Watari, go grab the mop from the storage closet. The one by the bread stacks.”

“Big mess to clean up?” Hanamaki asks with a raise brow as the young man scampers out of the room.

The man runs a hand through his hair and forces on a smile, “Just a little mixup between two employees. It should be resolved soon enough. Lost a mop and a few mugs in the process.”

“Scary.” Matsun comments.

The man shakes his head, “It was an accident. Nothing we can’t handle.”

Watari returns soon enough, mop in hand, offering it to the man who bows deeply before rushing back across the street.

“Who was that?” Yahaba asks, watching the man go.

“Daichi. He recently bought the cafe across the street.” Hanamaki explains, pointing at the ‘under new management sign’, “He’s inherited quite a lot of problems.”

“I swear that place used to be the best place to grab a cup coffee in the tri-state area, but they’ve really gone down the past few years.” Matsukawa supplies.

“Yeah,” Hanamaki agrees, “They lost a lot of customers to the cat cafe that opened up about a block away. They’ve been struggling ever since.”

“They’ll need a miracle to recover.” Matsukawa nods grimly.

“Huh,” Yahaba says, glancing back over at Karasuno Kafe, “I had no idea.”

“The more you know,” Matsukawa announces, gliding his hand up in an arc. Hanamaki lets out some _oohs_ and _aahs_ for added effect. With that, Hanamaki pulls Matsukawa to the back by his wrist.

“Speaking of things you need to know,” Hanamaki starts, “One, you dropped your hat. Two, you’re taking off work next Friday to hang out with me.”

Matsukawa bends down obediently for Hanamaki to secure his cap back on, “I am?”

“Yep. Put it in your calendar. January 4th. I’ll explain more later.”

“Hey, no need to convince me to take off work to spend time with you.”

Hanamaki finds his hands lingering in Matsukawa’s hair a bit longer than necessary.

* * *

“I can’t believe you’ve manipulated me into breaking and entering.”

“I thought we were ride or die bros. You’re questioning this now?”

Matsukawa lets out a laugh, opening the door wide once Hanamaki manages to unlock it with the spare key. He reveals the clean apartment before them that had been host to many a drunk gathering in recent years. It had been a while, though.

The two men venture inside, stepping out of their shoes politely before making their way to the bedroom. “This is where the magic happens.” Matsukawa comments.

Hanamaki snorts, elbowing him in the side, “I wonder which side is Oikawa’s.”

“Yeah, either the one with the night stand covered in color coordinated planners or the one with nothing on it but an old Sports Magazine. Truly the ultimate puzzle.”

Hanamaki ducks down to peer under the bed on the planner side, pulling out a cardboard box labeled, _Iwa-chan is FORBIDDEN_.

“The funniest thing is that this would work. Iwaizumi’s too respectful of that shit to mess with it.”

“True.” Matsukawa chuckles, pulling off the lid to reveal spools of ribbon, masking tape and a pile of photos, “Holy shit, it _is_ a lot.”

“We gotta cover the whole living room.” Hanamaki reminds him of Oikawa’s precise instructions, “Make it as nauseatingly romantic as possible.”

“Iwaizumi’s going to die.” Matsukawa murmurs.

“Can’t wait to see it happen.”

They get to work, carrying the box back over to the living room and setting it down on the table by the kitchen. They sit across from each other, grabbing photos and taping strings of various lengths to their backs before setting them aside. They’re mostly quiet, with Hanamaki’s spotify softly playing from his cell. It makes it a nice kind of silence, a soft kind of silence.

Occasionally, they interrupt the peace to show off an especially funny or embarrassing photo. A picture of Iwaizumi crying at the age of six, clinging tightly to Oikawa’s arm. The image of Oikawa and Iwaizumi showing off their missing teeth to the camera. Oikawa in a cardboard crown and curtain for a cape, standing proudly atop a table, with Iwaizumi standing beneath him, with a cardboard sword, beaming up at him. Oikawa screaming while Iwaizumi shows off a beetle in ajar. Oikawa and Iwaizumi kneading bread as young teens, covered in flour. Selfies upon selfies once they reach high school. Oikawa and Iwaizumi showing off their culinary degrees from rival universities.

An absolute lifetime of memories documented meticulously by attentive parents and the vainest (sweetest) man alive.

Hanamaki wonders if, maybe, these two could just save a bit a love for the rest of the world. Does love need to be aged like a fine wine to be this sweet?

He flicks his eyes up at Matsukawa, chewing on his lip a little.

Is a five year bottle of wine really that cheap?

He’s sure it has to appeal to someone.

“Crazy how they haven’t killed each other by now.” Matsukawa comments, glancing at the last picture in the pile. It’s the one Hanamaki took in August, in Enoshima, moments after the proposal.

“Iwaizumi is a man of great self control.”

Matsukawa looks over at him, and his eyes seem to linger a moment before he gets up. “Time to hang em all up?”

“I’ll guide you, Giraffe man.”

The next few hours are spent placing the dangling images all around the room. Matsukawa easily tapes the strings to the ceiling. Hanamaki manhandles his hips as he pushes and pulls him to the best spots possible. Fingers dig into the skin revealed every time Matsukawa reaches his arms up high. It’s an intimate dance around the room.

“That’s the last one.” 

“I can’t believe they’ve known each other since they were fetuses.” Hanamaki shakes his head, removing his hands from Matsukawa’s side, regrettably. “Practically fetuses.”

“I can’t really imagine them apart though,” Matsukawa confesses, gaze lost in one of the many photos slowly spinning in the room.

Hanamaki hums in agreement. It’s true. The two are so entwined it’s impossible to think of them ever going their separate ways. Even when they went to separate universities they managed to live together.

“I miss you.” Matsukawa says, suddenly, out of the blue, eyes still distant.

Hanamaki swallows, blinking up at him, “What?”

Outside there’s a loud shrill voice that fills the air, “Iwa-chan! We forgot the other bag in the car! Go get it!”

Matsukawa and Hanamaki straighten up as Oikawa sprints into the room and closes the door behind him. The brunet’s eyes widen, bright smile enveloping his face, “This place looks amazing!”

“Fifty dollars.” Hanamaki demands, stretching out his hand.

He is ignored. “He’ll be up here any minute. Quick, duck behind the couch. Oh and! If you could record this that would be fantastic.” Oikawa orders, waving at them quickly. Hanamaki and Matsukawa obediently find themselves crouched behind the couch, bodies close and touching. And Hanamaki really wishes he could ask Matsukawa about this missing him business when he _hasn’t gone anywhere_. But he supposes, there’s a time and place for everything.

Oikawa shuts the lights off and scampers to kneel in the middle of the room. Plunged into darkness and sudden silence, the trio hold their breaths as they hear footsteps ascend the stairs.

“Trashykawa, you could have at least left the door open. This bag’s heavier than it looks,” they hear Iwaizumi complain through the door as he turns the knob, “Why are the lights off?”

Iwaizumi flicks them on and drops the grocery bag to the floor, green eyes wide.

Hanamaki and Matsukawa can see him clearly, but they can only see Oikawa’s back. They have to assume the kneeling man is grinning.

“Stop-“ Iwaizumi starts, eyes running along the walls, jumping from photo to photo before resting on Oikawa’s form.

“Iwaizumi Hajime,” Oikawa starts, and there’s a tremor of a laugh in his voice.

“Don’t-“ Iwaizumi chokes, taking a step into the room. He’s red, bright red. _So red they probably need to invent a new shade to account for it_ , Hanamaki thinks.

“I have never existed in a world without you.” Oikawa continues, a little tremor in his voice, “And I know I never wanted to not. I begged my mother to have us move next door to you, and look at all the memories we’ve made since then.”

Iwaizumi isn’t looking. He’s covering his face.

“And I want to make a thousand more,” and Hanamaki and Matsukawa can actually feel the shit eating grin radiating from Oikawa’s mouth just from the tone of his words, “Hajime, will you marry me?”

Iwaizumi won’t budge from his rooted spot, and he shakes his head. Oikawa lets out a laugh, standing up, “No? You won’t marry me? Iwa-chan are you breaking up with me?”

“No!” Iwaizumi snaps from between his fingers, “I mean, yes, of course. Of course I’m marrying you, dumbass! God. This is, this is too much.”

Oikawa pads over to Iwaizumi, carefully taking his hands in his own and letting them slip from his wet face, “You’re so weak, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi kisses him, “You’re fucking embarrassing.”

“Congrats!” Matsukawa shouts from the couch.

“Got that double combo proposal streek!” Hanamaki complements.

Iwaizumi looks like he wants to die, “How long have they been there!?”

Oikawa kisses his cheek, slipping the ring onto Iwaizumi’s hand while he’s distracted.

* * *

The idea comes to Hanamaki in mid March, as he watches Matsukawa knead bread with what seems like his entire upper body. He was snacking on one of Yahaba’s test cookies, purple and gold and green crowns artfully decorated them in preparation for Mardis Gras.

“I’ve got it!”

“Got what?” Matsukawa asks, flicking his gaze over.

“Stay in the bakery with me tonight.” Hanamaki orders instead, “We’re baking a wedding cake.”

Matsukawa raises a brow, but a grin grows on his face, “We really doing this?”

Hanamaki raises his eyebrows, once, twice, before leaving to head back into the office. Matsukawa watches him go, the smile slipping from his face as he turns to the dough in his hands. He squeezes it, watching it slip through the gaps in his fingers. Always in reach, but escaping. He sighs.

The day passes smoothly. Iwaizumi and Oikawa argue over catering services and dietary choices for their wedding. Yahaba and Watari decorate their first cake for order under Matsukawa’s tutelage. Hanamaki browses through facebook, downloading pictures to his desktop as he goes. Customers come in, orders are taken, pastries are delivered.

“Don’t forget to lock up!” Iwaizumi calls from the front door as Oikawa and him depart. Hanamaki gives them a peace sign as a response. Matsukawa rests his elbow a top his head, earning him a raised eyebrow.

Matsukawa looks down beneath heavy eyelids, “So, you gonna tell me your master plan?”

“Follow me.” Hanamaki orders, stepping away from being an arm rest in order to lead the way to the office. Inside he takes his long sketch paper and unfurls it along the table. He keeps his arms outstretched on the bottom two corners to keep from rolling up again. Matsukawa joins him, placing a long arm on the top right corner to help, body pressed against Hanamaki’s own. Hanamaki juts a hip back jokingly (flirtatiously) but makes no further comment, “What do you think?”

It’s a sketch of a simple three tier cake. It’s white with a light blue beaded trim along the edges. Delicate light blue vines climb up the layers. Sugar cookies have been inserted around the top of each tier, standing upright and facing outward. There’s a note beside one, and Matsukawa has to lean closer to try to read the fine print. It puts his face dangerously close to Hanamaki’s, who decides to be helpful, reading, “Each cookie is decorated with a reference to some gross couple thing that’s happened to them. A la Oikawa’s proposal.”

“Genius.” Matsukawa murmurs, and his breath tickles at Hanamaki’s cheek.

“Shall we?”

“We shall.” Matsukawa agrees, straightening up, much to Hanamaki’s dismay, “One addendum, however.” Hanamaki hums, turning around to look at him. “We gotta put a dick in it somewhere.”

Hanamaki snorts, “Secret penis?”

“Secret penis.”

They start working on the batter, giving snide remarks as they whisk and mix. They glide around the bakery with practiced ease, dividing and conquering. And once the cake has finished baking and they’ve placed it in the fridge to cool, the bring out the sugar cookies to the icing station.

“Now we get creative?” Matsukawa asks, aloud.

“I’m thinking for the real deal we can have Yahaba and Watari help us out.”

“Family bonding,” Matsukawa agrees, picking up some green icing, “I’m going to draw Godzilla on this one.”

“Good luck,” Hanamaki laughs, grabbing his own cookie, “This one’s going to be beach with a diamond ring.”

They both realize, very quickly, that there is a reason they leave the fine decorating details to Oikawa (and now Yahaba). They’re absolute crap when it comes to free hand. Godzilla is more of a scraggly lizard, and the beach is but some blue squiggles with a white circle for a ring.

It’s hilarious, to be quite honest.

“I think we just need fuel, is all,” Matsukawa decides with a laugh, “I’m gonna order a pizza.”

“Do _not_ put pineapples on that shit.”

“I’m putting pineapples all over that shit.”

Half an hour later they’re sitting out front. Hanamaki has perched himself on the counter, pizza box (half pineapple, half without) sitting beside him. Matsukawa has dragged over a chair, and each have a gooey pizza in hand.

“Cheers?” Matsukawa raises his slice.

Hanamaki taps his own on it, “Cheers.”

They both take a bite, and then another, and silence fills the darkened bakery. But it’s not uncomfortable, it’s soft, and it just, _is_.

Hanamaki watches Matsukawa as he eats his slice, cheese sticking to his lips. He follows up the curve of his cheekbone to his heavy eyes and feels a giddy feeling building in his chest. He lets out a chuckle. Matsukawa glances over at him with a raised eyebrow. Hanamaki laughs a bit louder, “You’ve got icing in your brow.”

Matsukawa blinks, snorts and leans forward. Hanamaki gets the hint, licking his own fingertip to dab away the spot. He smooths the brow back down, fingers slipping past to dig into the lush, thick black hair. Matsukawa hums.

Hanamaki pulls away, “I’ve missed you too.”

“I’m here.” Matsukawa mutters with a small smile.

“Can I say something?” Hanamaki asks, louder than he needs to, flicking his eyes up at the ceiling. He doesn’t really wait for a response, nerves making his tongue work faster, “I’m honestly shocked we haven’t drunkenly made out yet.”

Matsukawa almost spits out his pizza at the comment, but the pizza is too good to waste. He swallows instead, looking back over, “Really?”

“Yeah. It was supposed to be my in.” Hanamaki sighs, keeping his gaze.

“Your in?” Matsukawa repeats.

“Yeah, we were gonna be drunk one night, and drunkenly kiss and have our couple awakening and than be grosser than ten Iwaizumis and Oikawas combined. So much romance and love that no one would want to be near us.”

“Damn.” Matsukawa breathes.

“But we still haven’t made out yet.”

“We’ll we don’t drink as often as we used to.” Matsukawa concedes, “But may I add? It’s been scientifically proven you don’t need to be drunk to make out.”

Hanamaki lets out an exaggerated gasp, “What? Prove it.”

And so Matsukawa does, tugging Hanamaki down by his apron strings, pressing their lips together for the first time. Lips molding to one another, a sudden fervor of action as Hanamaki squeezes Matsukawa’s shoulders, bunching up the fabric of his pinstripe shirt. Matsukawa’s hands slide up the slim bands of the apron, sliding up behind Hanamaki’s neck, making him shudder. With his hands behind Hanamaki’s head as an anchor, he tilts his own face.

They kiss deeper, pulling apart for quick breaths before diving back in, hungry but not desperate. Like savoring a dinner slaved over for hours and hours (or years and years). Deeper and deeper, until Hanamaki’s legs have wrapped lazily around Matsukawa’ hips, and Matsukawa’s leaning almost completely over the counter, covering every inch of Hanamaki with himself.

And it’s warm, and it’s good, and it’s here, and it’s now.

When they finally pull away, Hanamaki can’t help but brush the hair out of Matsukawa’s eyes, “See, we should have been doing that forever ago.”

“I guess we make up for lost time then?” Matsukawa replies, and Hanamaki laughs, pulling him in for another kiss, and another, and another until the pizza is so cold and the cake practically frozen.

* * *

The next day they unveil the cake.

Oikawa and Iwaizumi absolutely love it.

“I love sugar cookies.” Iwaizumi smiles.

“Are these our memories? That’s perfect!” Oikawa praises.

And then they cut them a slice.

“OH MY GOD.” Oikawa screams.

“What the _fuck.”_ Iwaizumi hisses, as Matsukawa and Hanamaki proudly show off their creation. The cake, once sliced, reveals its vanilla interior and secret penis shaped blue center.

After picking themselves off the floor from laughing so hard the pair agree to keep the real deal safe for work.

* * *

“Hey, boss, can we come in?” Hanamaki knocks, on the door lightly, Matsukawa right behind him.

“Yeah!” Oikawa calls back, and the pair enter the dressing room.

Oikawa looks back at them, dressed pristinely in a white suit. His blazer hangs on a hook beside him. He has his tie hanging loosely around his shoulders, in the process of cuffing his sleeves.

“Damn.” Hanamaki hums.

Oikawa laughs, “I know.” He gives a wink, “I look amazing in white.”

“What a humble bride,” Matsukawa murmurs with a grin.

Oikawa sticks his tongue out, “That’s _groom_ , thank you very much.”

“Do you need any help?” Hanamaki offers, taking a seat on one of the chairs.

“You can tell me if my tie’s crooked once I do it,” Oikawa waves off, turning back around to look into his mirror, “Weren’t you going to be with Iwa-chan?”

“He kicked us out,” Matsukawa shrugs.

“He was freaking out. He didn’t want anyone in the room,” Hanamaki sighs leaning back.

“Iwa-chan hates crying in front of people,” Oikawa supplies with a small smile, “He’s so cute.”

Matsukawa makes a gagging action at Hanamaki.

“You seem calm.” Hanamaki points out.

Oikawa glances over at them with a piercing gaze, “I work great under pressure.” He flicks back to the mirror, “You could go help my sister with seating people. Or work on your speech.”

“Oh, that reminds me,” Matsukawa mentions, “How funny would it be if I proposed to Makki at your wedding?”

Oikawa freezes, whirling around to them, “Don’t you _dare_ ruin my day!”

Hanamaki laughs into his hand, “ _Our_ day.”

Oikawa huffs, “You’re not even dating!”

“Who says?” Matsukawa blinks, stepping a bit closer to Hanamaki.

Oikawa blinks, hands falling slack by his sides, “Wait...what!?”

“Well,” Hanamaki begins, “We’re definitely not _not_ dating.”

Oikawa’s eye twitches, squinting at them, and then he hears his sister shout from down the hall and shakes his head, “I don’t have time for this. I’m getting married!”

Hanamaki and Matsukawa both share a laugh and a friendly fist bump, that leads to their hands entangling into each other behind their backs while Oikawa turns away.

And they do get married. And Iwaizumi cries the whole time, and Oikawa laughs the whole time and Hanamaki and Matsukawa definitely don’t cry.

At all.

But they do give a speech, and they don’t propose but they do make out a couple of times while the happy couple dance. Overall, it’s a pretty sweet wedding.

And the cake is pretty good too.

**Author's Note:**

> sorry that everything because about dicks when you write MatsuHana. 
> 
> its my first time writing this pairing! hope i did it justice.
> 
> for those reading my polyamory fic, i promise i will update soon!
> 
> also: i do a podcast now? about animation and anime? Look it up! It's 'Animate the World' on itunes.


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